


The Art of Letting Go

by 1nner_sakura



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: #stopChloeBourgeois2k16, Adrien is trying to figure out this whole friendship thing ok, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Panic Attacks, Post episode 19, can someone please hug this boy, these children have been through too much so of course i had to make them suffer more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1nner_sakura/pseuds/1nner_sakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Episode 19. </p><p>"Maybe it’s the headache he can feel coming on, or a combination of his exhaustion and the pressure of his classmates’ gazes upon him. Whatever it is, it acts as the catalyst. For the first time in his life, Adrien Agreste’s fuse finally runs out."</p><p>Also known as the One Where Adrien finally Loses his Chill and People's Feelings Get Hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend recently showed me Let It Go by James Bay and it turns out it fits really nicely with this fic? so if you like listening to music whilst reading, i would definitely recommend it. also thank you to leaflioness.tumblr.com for beta-ing this for me! u da real mvp

Adrien can hear the yelling before he even enters the classroom.

 _  
Please don’t be Chloé again_ , he thinks tiredly. He is running out of excuses and strained silences and polite smiles to hide his exasperation with his oldest friend’s antics. She alone has been responsible for at least half of their class being turned into akuma – no small feat for one 15 year-old girl. Adrien’s sleep-deprived mind finds an undue amount of amusement at the thought of she and Hawkmoth secretly working together to disturb every waking moment of his life. What a fearsome pair they would make.

But of course, yelling this early can only stem from one source. Chloé Bourgeois has managed to once again horribly upset one of their classmates, this time before school has even started. Today it is sweet, gentle Rose – the same girl who Adrien knows doesn’t have it in her to harm a fly. 

  
Rose is sitting at her desk, surrounded by many of their classmates. Juleka, Mylène and Nathanaël are attempting to comfort the distraught girl, while Alix and Ivan stand protectively in front of her desk; bodyguards to ward off any would-be evildoers.

Adrien feels a prickle of relief that his classmates appear to be giving Rose the comfort she needs – he doesn’t know if he is up for dealing with another akuma so early in the morning, especially after the attack he and Ladybug dealt with late last night. He can feel the effects of sleep deprivation weighing on his mind and body, pulling at his eyelids and dragging along at his heels.

He turns his eyes to the source of the noise, and braces himself.

  
Chloé is sitting at her desk, looking for all the world like whatever is happening in the back of the classroom has absolutely nothing to do with her. Except her eyes are shining with malice and trained on the furious black-haired girl who is currently bearing down on her.

Marinette is standing in the aisle, legs spread and hands planted firmly on her hips, unleashing her fury upon Chloé like a vengeful goddess. Adrien can’t see her face, but for a moment all he can picture is a red suit, black polka dots and flashing blue eyes behind a matching mask. He shakes his head to rid himself of the image, and hovers uncertainly in the doorway. If he had his Lady’s luck, he would be able to sneak into the class and his seat unnoticed, thereby avoiding whatever drama is currently unfolding; but of course his luck is nothing if not terrible and why would that change now?

Chloé spots him standing in the doorway and stands, shoving past Marinette and rushing towards him. Adrien barely has time to brace himself for the impact before Chloé has thrown her arms around his neck and is attempting to plaster his face with good morning kisses.  


“Adri-kins!” the blonde coos, batting her eyelashes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t deal with these morons for _one_ more _minute_ –”

Adrien forces a laugh, feeling the eyes of the entire class on them as he attempts to pry Chloé off his person.  
  
“Yeah, I’m a bit late this morning. It seems like I made it just in time though?”

The double meaning of his words doesn’t appear to be lost on Chloé – or the rest of his classmates for that matter – and the tension in the room suddenly thickens.

  
Chloé flips her hair expertly over one shoulder, deflecting Adrien’s questioning look with the poise that only a politician’s daughter can. “Oh that little thing? It’s nothing really. You don’t have to concern yourself with such stupidity.”  


“The only stupid thing here is your _behaviour,_ Chloé. And your refusal to apologize to Rose!” Marinette’s face is flushed – with anger rather than embarrassment for once – and her fists are clenched tightly at her sides. She is clearly not as willing as Chloé to let the incident slide, and Adrien feels dread settle in the pit of his stomach. His classmates will expect him to step in – to reign Chloé in as he always does – and settle the dispute between his classmates peacefully and gently. Never more than now does Adrien hate the well-mannered and courteous façade he has been conditioned to adopt since childhood. For once he wants to be selfish and wash his hands of the whole situation. All he can feel is bone-deep exhaustion, and his fuse slowly burning down, shorter and shorter and _shorter_.  


Too late he realizes that Marinette has been talking to him, and that he’s waited longer than is polite to reply. He turns his attention entirely to his classmate for the first time since entering the room.  


Her blue eyes – _since when are her eyes so blue; weren’t they always grey?_ – stare at him, wide and imploring. Begging him for something that he’s not sure he is able, or willing, to give.

  
“Ah, I’m sorry. What was the question?”

  
Chloé snickers behind him and Marinette’s stance falters, uncertainty creeping into her previous confidence. For the first time he notices that fact that he is not the only one of his classmates battling with exhaustion this morning. Marinette’s eyes are ringed with purple; the bruise-like circles too dark to be covered completely even by her makeup. Before he can squash it, a small voice in his head points out the way they bring out the startling blueness of her eyes, and draw attention to the dark thickness of her eyelashes.  


“Um, I was just telling you about – well actually I was, uh, asking you whether you thought Chloé should apologize to Rose?” Her voice rises uncertainly toward the end of her sentence, petering off into awkward silence.  


Adrien blinks, slowly absorbing the situation in which he finds himself and desperately tries to smother the wicked hot burst of annoyance he feels bubbling in his chest. He’s being asked to choose – _yet again_ – between his classmates and Chloé. It’s a lose-lose situation. He either risks offending the majority of his classmates, or alienating his oldest friend.

For all of her character defaults, Chloé has been by Adrien’s side through everything. Nino is his best friend, but Chloé was his first and that still means something. For the longest time, she was the only thing standing between him and the gaping loneliness that threatened to overtake him after his mother disappeared. She gave him the strength to pick himself back up again and again, and for all of their differences, Adrien finds himself to afraid to fathom the person he would be if he didn’t have Chloé’s strength to rely on. Perhaps he is too used to looking past the faults of the people he loves. Too well versed in making excuses for negligence or cruelty; too used to explaining away absences and strange behaviour with shallow excuses and shallower smiles. At this point he can’t tell whether he is better at fooling others or himself.  
  
Nevertheless, there is a very small, special place in his heart reserved for Chloé Bourgeois. And so he chooses, again. And prays that the fallout will not be disastrous.

  
Adrien runs a hand roughly through his hair – both for something to do and in an attempt to get a hold of his irrational anger. He knows Marinette means well, but he can’t help but be frustrated by the girl’s perpetual feuding with Chloé. And the fact that he is quite literally in the middle of it. Again.  
  
“Uh, sorry Marinette. I think I’m going to stay out of this one. Maybe we should let Chloé and Rose settle it between themselves.”  
  
The black-haired girl gapes at him, clearly not expecting such a response. She begins to stammer. “B-but, you didn’t hear what Chloé–”  
  
Maybe it’s the headache he can feel coming on, or a combination of his exhaustion and the pressure of his classmates’ gazes upon him. Whatever it is, it acts as the catalyst. For the first time in his life, Adrien Agreste’s fuse finally runs out.  
  
“Marinette,” he snaps coldly, rudely cutting her off. “I said I’m staying out of it. End of discussion.”  


The vehemence of his tone surprises even himself. For a second, Adrien has a hard time distinguishing his own voice from his father’s. And that thought, more than anything else, sends a burst of shame through him.  
  
The look Marinette shoots him is bright with betrayal and hurt. Her face crumples and her whole body curves inward, as if the weight of her disappointment is too much for her small frame. Adrien’s breath catches, knowing instinctively that he has gone too far.

He can’t bring himself to look at anyone as he makes his way quickly to his seat. The class is uncomfortably quiet, the only sound being Chloé’s smug tittering across the aisle. Adrien’s whole body is hot with embarrassment, and the self-loathing he feels is enough to make his stomach turn. He is used to disappointing people – his father first and foremost – but he never, ever imagined receiving that kind of look from his caring, if slightly awkward, classmate.  
  
_She must hate me_.

Nino doesn’t say anything to him as he sits down, choosing instead to turn around and quietly converse with Alya until class begins. Adrien can feel the heat of the redhead’s glare burning into the back of his neck, but he doesn’t turn. He feels frozen in his seat, crushed under the weight of his own decisions. When he chose to side with Chloé, he didn’t consider the fact that he might lose all of his other friends as a result.

 

-x-

 

Lunch comes both too soon and not soon enough. Adrien needs space and time to himself, away from the accusing eyes of his classmates. Unfortunately, his bad luck from this morning holds strong. He and Nino, along with Alya and Marinette, end up paired together for an in-class assignment, which their teacher has _oh-so kindly_ given them the lunch hour to complete. They arrange to meet in the library – and as much as he might want to, Adrien can’t find it in himself to skip out.

That’s how he finds himself sitting across from Marinette, desperately looking anywhere but at her as they work silently. Alya and Nino do their best to carry on a relatively normal conversation, but neither he nor Marinette it would appear are in the mood to contribute, so most of their time is spent in tense silence.

  
The only sound, besides that of their scratching pencils and the turning of pages, is the occasional soft _pit-pat_ that only Adrien’s sensitive hearing can pick up. Puzzled, he looks up from his page to find the source of the sound and feels like someone has just doused him with ice water.

  
Marinette is crying.

He’s the only one who has noticed, because he is positioned directly across from her. Her hair is obscuring the majority of her face from view, but he can still hear – and now see – her tears falling onto her ruined worksheet.  


“Marinette?” Her name spills from his lips involuntarily. It breaks the bubble of silence and stillness that had fallen over their table, and suddenly there is a rush of motion.

The black-haired girl’s head snaps up, and her red-rimmed eyes catch his. Nino and Alya both turn as she stands abruptly, her chair scraping noisily across the floor.

  
“Um,” she clears her throat, her voice watery. “I have to, uh, go. Washroom.”

  
Helplessly, Adrien watches Marinette’s back disappear out the library door. Alya quickly collects both her and Marinette’s books before following after her best friend. Although not before shooting one last piercing glare Adrien’s way for good measure.

Adrien slumps forward, clasping his head in his hands. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”  
  
He doesn’t expect to receive an answer, but is surprised when he feels Nino’s hand clasp his shoulder.

  
“I’m not gonna say you’re wrong, bro. But we’ll figure it out. Mari’s great. I’m sure she’ll forgive you if you apologize.”

  
Once again, he vastly underestimated the size of Nino’s heart and his best friend’s capacity for forgiveness. He might have screwed up earlier, but he still has a chance to fix the mess he’s made. For the first time all day, Adrien can feel a genuine smile working it’s way onto his face. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Nino.”

 

-x-

 

He finds them back in the classroom. He pauses before entering, catching the tail end of their conversation.  


“Why is she so horrible?” Marinette sniffles. “And why does Adrien always stick up for her? She’s a bully – that has to bother him, right? I mean, he’s so much better than that! Or at least I thought he was...”

Marinette sighs and Adrien feels it slide between his ribs like a knife.  


“He hates me, Alya.” Even with his sensitive hearing, he barely picks up her choked whisper. But he does, and it’s enough to propel him forward into view. Because if anyone in this situation deserves to be hated, it’s certainly not Marinette.  


Neither girl notices him at first, prompting him to clear his throat awkwardly. Marinette starts, discreetly trying to wipe her eyes. Alya shifts closer to her friend protectively, and Adrien almost winces at the idea that Marinette needs protection _from_ him. He’s spent so much time saving her as Chat, only to hurt her even worse as Adrien. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

  
“Can we help you?” Alya’s question is sharp, her tone leaving no doubt as to her current feelings in regards to Adrien’s presence.

He has to stop himself from shifting guiltily under her gaze, feeling like a repentant child being scolded.

“S-sorry to interrupt. Um, could I potentially talk to you alone–err, _Marinette_ , that is? Talk alone with Marinette? If that’s okay…” His voice wavers and he represses the urge to kick himself. Real smooth, Agreste. Stammer your way back into her good graces. _Great plan_.  


The two girls exchange a long look – the kind that says everything and nothing and can only exist between the closest of friends – before Marinette nods slightly. Alya stands, patting the dark-haired girl on the back, before making her way to the front of the class. As she passes by him on her way out, she pauses.  


“You better make this right, Agreste. Just because you’re a celebrity doesn’t mean I can’t get away with murdering you.”

   
Adrien nods quickly, resisting the urge to gulp. Alya definitely makes a much better ally than enemy. The redhead will clearly stop at nothing to protect her best friend, and the inherent loyalty and trust between the two girls makes him almost jealous of their friendship.  


Evidently satisfied with his response, Alya saunters out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

   
And then they’re alone.

   
For a long moment Adrien just gazes around the classroom – at the midday sunlight pouring in through the classroom windows, at the notes still left on the board from the morning’s classes – at anything and everything that is not his nervous black-haired classmate.

Finally, unable to stand the oppressive silence any longer, Adrien opens his mouth to speak.

   
“Marinette–”  


“I’m sorry!”

  
His eyes flash to her, surprised by her outburst. She seems to be as well, because she hunches down further in her seat, her face burning bright red. She takes a deep breath – appearing to gather her courage – before continuing.  


“I’m sorry that I put you in an uncomfortable situation. I know that Chloe is your –” she seems to hesitate, her expression twisting briefly, “– _friend_ , but she just makes me so angry sometimes. Especially when she bullies the others people like that…”

Her face is turned down toward the desk and her clasped hands, which she is wringing nervously. She looks like a kicked puppy; sad and confused and unable to figure out exactly what they did to deserve the kick in the first place.

Adrien feels his guilt, practically a tangible presence in the room at this point, double in size. Marinette is barely able to hold his gaze half the time, but now it’s for a reason other than shyness.

   
_She’s scared_.  


“A-are you _afraid_ of me?” His voice cracks. The thought hurts him more than he cares to admit.  


She stares back at him, her expression horrified. Her mouth opens and closes rapidly, trying to come up with a response to his suspicious query. She can apparently find no words to contradict him other than a garbled, “N-no– ”, which doesn’t quite manage to convince either of them of its sincerity.  


Adrien prays in vain that the floor will open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Anything is better than having to face the prospect that he’s ruined his friendship with Marinette before it even had the chance to really begin. He has never been any good at making or keeping friends, having no idea where to start half of the time. He always winds up hurting them in the end – Nino even got _akumatized_ because of him. This was the reason why he needed to keep people like Chloe around; people who have emotional armour that even his blunders and bad luck can’t damage.

Considering the fact that in one day he’s managed to alienate, injure or offend the majority of his classmates – people he was just beginning to classify as friends – maybe he really would be better off alone.

Yet the thought of experiencing the crushing loneliness of his childhood again is enough to make his heart start racing, each breath rasping shallowly in his chest.

   
_Not again, please._

  
Before he can spiral into a full-blown panic attack, he feels two small, warm hands settle on his shoulders.  


“Adrien. Look at me. Breathe with me, okay?”

   
_Blue like the skies,_ he thinks, _her eyes are just like the sky_. He can feel himself getting lost in the familiar colour as he slowly attempts to match his inhales and exhales with those of his classmate.  


“I’m sorry,” he repeats like a mantra as Marinette leads him to the nearest desk, sliding onto the bench next to him. “I’m sorry. For everything.”  


“It’s okay.” She says, grasping his hands and squeezing slightly. He finds himself squeezing back tightly, desperate for the comfort brought by even this small form of physical contact.  


“I can’t be alone again.” He’s surprised by how weak and vulnerable his own voice sounds. But the truth behind his words rings out clearer and stronger than anything.

   
Marinette’s gaze pierces through him as she whispers, “You _weren’t_.”  


He clings to her that much more tightly, unwilling to lose this moment – to lose _her_ and whatever understanding has just come to pass between them.  
 

She doesn’t let go.

 

-x-

 

The two of them sit like that, hands clasped tightly together, until the first of their classmates begin to enter the room as the lunch break draws to a close. Adrien doesn’t feel quite ready to pull away yet, drawing strength from Marinette’s calmness. But he can see her face flushing under their classmates’ curious gazes, so he reluctantly pulls away.

  
“Thanks Mari,” he leans in close to whisper, conscious of the other students’ blatant eavesdropping. “I mean it. Thank you.”

  
She blushes brilliantly, and Adrien doesn’t even attempt to stop his mind from noting how adorable it is.  
  
  
“N-no problem, Adrien. That’s what friends are for, right?”  


He can feel himself beaming. _Friends_ – warmth blossoms in his chest at the word.

  
“Ugh! Why are you sitting with _her_?”

 _  
Well, so much for that nice moment_.

  
Chloé is standing in the doorway, gazing at them like one might gaze upon a dead mouse in a trap. Sabrina stands behind her, looking on nervously. The blonde girl stomps over to stand in front of them, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Well? Are you going to answer me or not? Why are you sitting with this loser?”

   
“Chloé,” Adrien sighs in exasperation, readying whatever excuses he’ll need to calm the mayor’s daughter as Marinette tenses beside him. “We’re fr–“

 _  
Friends._ He glances over at her. The black-haired girl looks resigned to Chloé’s verbal barrage, her blue eyes cast down as she moves to stand from her seat.

  
His hand flashes out, wrapping around her wrist, effectively stopping her.

  
Part of his mind – the part that sounds suspiciously like Plagg – draws no small amount of amusement from comparing the shocked looks on both Marinette and Chloé’s faces. The larger part, however, is more concerned with ending this ridiculousness once and for all.  


“Chloé,” Adrien doesn’t think he’s ever seen his friend more thrown than she is at this moment. His tone of his voice combined with his actions have clearly caught her off-guard, and Adrien can’t help but be annoyed with himself that he has let this go on for so long. “I don’t appreciate you speaking about my friends that way. Please apologize to Marinette.”

  
The blonde splutters inelegantly for several seconds, before visibly attempting to pull herself together. She stays just long enough to spit out an “Absolutely not!” before storming off to her seat. Adrien feels a pang of regret – he knows Chloé well enough to know that his response has genuinely hurt her, and that he will have to deal with the repercussions of his actions later – but for now he basks in the sense of relief he feels, as if a weight has suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

  
He feels Marinette’s hand slip into his, her fingers curling around his reflexively.

  
Her blue eyes are soft as she gazes at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” she murmurs.

  
“I know,” he says, smiling gently. “I wanted to. That’s what friends are for, remember?”

  
He would stand up to Chloé ten thousand times if it meant keeping that look of pure, unadulterated happiness on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: the One Where I Tried to Write Angst and it Did Not Go Well
> 
> sometimes i feel bad for Chloé and then she opens her mouth and i'm like 'whoomp there it is.'
> 
> also this is my first fic on here. pls be gentle w/ my feelings.


End file.
